The light at the end of the huge cardboard tube

I'm hardly an art connoisseur. I appreciate it, of course, but I'll leave the heavy dissection to the artists/art majors among us. Besides, someone who's only artistic talent consists of poorly Photoshopped blog photos probably doesn't have much authority in the world of artistic critique.

But I still like art walking on First Friday, and I still like peeking my head into new exhibits.

I like the Portland Museum of Art too, but I must have the look of a troublemaker because the staff tends to follow me around.

During my last excursion there, a friend and I lingered in front of a painting of Portland. I lifted a finger to point out a building I thought I recognized (we were having trouble doing the old-school/modern day comparison) and was promptly interrupted and asked to please not touch the art.

She was just looking out for the art, I understand that, but I honestly would never really put my grubby hands on any of it.

But that's not to say I don't want to. Art is tempting that way. But I'm an adult and I restrain myself from pressing my hand into the textured canvas of a 100-year-old painting, even though it looks like it'd feel really cool.

But then came along artist Amy Stacy Curtis and her new interactive art installation, Light. That's right. Interactive. We get to touch stuff.

The installation is spread out on the fourth floor of the Sanford Mill. Each of the nine pieces is prefaced by directions, so we know how we're expected to interact with it. Here, viewers are asked to walk all the way around the giant circle of empty cans.



So I start walking.

It soon becomes apparent that the color of the collective circle is changing. Initially it appears blue.



Blue fades to green.



And then to red and orange.

Every color of the spectrum is canned in this circle. I think I walked it at least three times. Very trippy.



Some of the installations required you to touch something, such as this one where we pressed nine floor lights of our choosing, causing them to light up.

I also had the strange desire to imitate a departing airplane.



Some required nothing more than your gaze, like this succession of tubes hung end to end to form one really, really long one. If you look into it you can see a series of white rings formed by light filtering through the gaps between the tubes.

Were I not the mature art appreciator that I am, I might've been inclined to yell into it.



Another installation consisted of two rows of mirrors hung from the high ceiling by fishing wire. When you walked between them, the reflections mirrored back into space. It was like seeing the mill in multiple dimensions.

I also noticed that, despite the human inclination to stare at ourselves in the mirror, that wasn't the case here. My eyes tended to look into the mirror just ahead of me so I could get that reflection-to-eternity effect (while simultaneously praying that I wouldn't become entranced and stumble into the dangling glass).

A table topped with a layer of mutli-colored beads. The directions asked us to slide a handful off the table into our palm, them dispense them into appropriately colored glass tubes nearby.

It may also have been an inexpensive way to get us to sort the beads for an underhanded bead distribution company overseas.

I'm just sayin'.

LIGHT

The exhibit is open daily through October 24th at the Sanford Mill (there are excellent directions on Amy's web site, including the fact that Emery Street has no sign and some people - ahem - might drive right past it). Hours: M-F 12-5pm; S-S 10-5pm. Free admission or donation. 'Light' details.

Go forth and touch stuff.

What kind of art are you driving?

Art, they say, is subjective. That means there's plenty to be subjective about in Portland.

There are enough galleries and studios in town to keep your inner art critic well exercised for a year. (Try the First Friday Art walk. If you're not an art fan, start tipping back the free wine until something finally speaks to you. Everyone knows wine makes you profound and intellectual - oh, and richer.)

But there's unexpected art everywhere, too. Like the Post Office mailbox on Forest Ave. that's painted to look like R2-D2. That's art, right?

What about a ball of pants? Is it art? Or just the unfortunate result of putting off laundry day a few weeks too long?

I'll defer to more experienced art enthusiasts in most cases, but my entirely-clueless-when-it-comes-to-art rule of thumb is, if I could recreate it, it isn't good.

Take this, for example:

Some construction paper and a stapler and you've pretty much got that one covered.

So let's forget all the canvas, all the clay, all the turnpike underpasses and all the back alley brick walls for a moment. There's a new art movement driving through Portland.

Car art is taking over the city. In the last week I spotted a couple of fine works parked in the area.

A Caddy skillfully splattered with paint.

I call it, "You can't control me anymore, Dad!"

A red pickup embellished with spray paint.

I call it, "I am, therefore I stencil"

It's art for the people. Even I was able to create some car art of my own.

I call it, "Who moved that #&%*$# rock wall?"